Remember November

Originally posted November 29th 2023

I have been thinking about snow. We hardly had any last year but I’m hoping this year we’ll get more. It has gotten quite cold in Brooklyn, the air is almost the temperature where my ears and nose hurt when outside. The thermals have made their way out of the back of the closest and are on heavy rotation. We’re still in fall technically, but November is basically winter.

November always goes by in a flash and it continued that trend this year. December is the one that drags on and January feels like a full stop. I will be spending another Christmas in the city, the little tree I bought last year is still alive so it will be making its way onto the kitchen table to be decorated soon enough. My mind already racing with what to make, as my sister and her husband will be here too. Roast potatoes, root veg, a shit ton of rosemary. I love that I am now the type of person who gets excited about cooking.

The new André 3000 album, New Blue Sun, is genuinely good, I think the people who are clowning on it just want another OutKast album (go listen to OutKast if you’ve got an issue with the slick flute toons). Pitchfork for some reason categorised it as a rap album despite it being instrumental (I wonder why). It’s a great winter album, enhances the beauty of the darker season. It’s about slowness, taking time. I’ve been trying to adjust to the onset of winter, preparing for the shorter days and making sure I don’t get caught up in bad habits. Cooking still brings a good amount of satisfaction to my day to day, so I’ve been focusing on that.

November means lots of ambient and instrumental music, that or silence. I’ve been making an effort to be in silence. For the last week I’ve stopped watching things when I eat, removing that weird bit of stress that comes with trying to find something before your food gets cold. I always end up watching something I don’t care about anyways. I’ve been setting the table at dinner nicely, bowls of bits and pieces to put together just for myself. As much as I enjoy doing it for others, I should like to enjoy it also. My sister bought me a pack of my favourite tea, the pukka chai vanilla. I don’t know when I started the habit, but I always tie the tea bag string around the mug handle, like I’m afraid I wont be able to find it again. I think a friend of mine must’ve done it, that is usually how I start habits. But the last two years I’ve been trying to form my own, ones entirely me. Perhaps that is why I struggle with it. For a long while I have not recognised myself, I’ve deprived myself of me. Too caught up in what I liked or disliked in others, losing myself in them whether they wanted me to or not. I confused that for love, and maybe it is a kind of love, but it’s not one I want. I think I believed love was to be utterly consumed by another, now I think it’s two people, stood on opposite sides of a room, most likely a kitchen, in silence.

The other night I was laying on the floor, in an attempt to fix a sore back, and was listening for the first time in a long time, to King Krule. I was looking up at the ceiling and felt as if I was reaching through time, and I felt like I did in 2015. I lived in Nunhead, London and was similar to now, not leaving the house and scared to go outside. Back then it didn’t have a name, I was simply sick. And again, for the first time in a long time, I felt like myself. And I missed the long gone café Lerryn’s, walking to Peckhamplex, quiz night at The Waveryly Arms, talking to the shopkeeper in Nunhead station. Weekends spent at Lion Vibz in Brixton, spending all our money at Four Quarters, running to get Katia at The Review Bookshop a breakfast sandwich. I was terribly sad at this time but there was also a lot of joy. In a way, it was easier to get out of when it didn’t have a name. It had no definition therefore I was not defined by it. And I wonder now if music can bring me back to myself, if this can be a small cure. Wouldn’t hurt to try.

I’d forgotten about Thanksgiving until mid-morning when I went into the grocery shop and saw it was busy with people and u-turned out of there (I spent the entirety of last Wednesday thinking it was Thanksgiving). I decided instead to take a walk and call my dad. As we tend to do, we ended up talking about art. How can we free ourselves to enjoy making without the weight of comparison or validation. I told my dad, of course I want validation, how many people would actually make art if no one else looked? Then I backtracked and remembered several on-going and past projects I’ve done over my life that no one else has seen and I do not want them to see. Not because I don’t like them, but because they’re not for anyone else. Pretty much every single piece of music I’ve ever made has been kept to myself. I make it and I’m done. Most poems or lyrics. I keep the lyrical side of myself private. I think I confuse validation with communication. The need to share art more so falls into the need to say something wordless, or the words need boosting. That’s what’s always annoyed me about artist statements, because the whole reason I make art is that I cannot put it into words. I am not my arts interpreter.

My dad asked me why I care what people think and I admit I’ve always cared a lot of what people think of me. I remember a girl in school when we were about 10, we were having some kind of falling out and I remember her saying “the difference between you and me is that I don’t care what people think of me.” I always found it weird that it was a bad thing to want to be liked. But you have to figure out a balance, it’s always about balance.

I spent the afternoon of what I thought was Thanksgiving having a very nice time. I listened to a lot of music, including Aerial M’s self-titled, dbh’s Time Flies and Grouper’s Shade (I made a playlist of everything here, it’s a nice chill mix). Cleaned the apartment after a bout of depression (which in one way, I always find exciting because there’s lot to do). Cooked sweet potatoes, chicken in a Greek Chicken Marinade and spinach in an ungodly amount of garlic. I was unusually present that day, uninterested in what the internet had to offer. Sometimes the chemistry aligns and I do not feel the need to bog down my brain in whatever youtube series I’ve discovered. I have for some reason or other for a couple weeks, been watching a lot of videos on crypto scams. It’s a bit like the gold rush, most people will end up with nothing after putting so much value into such an arbitrary thing. And from the outside it all seems so obvious, but I imagine it’s harder to discern when in it. But I took a break from watching finance bros doom themselves and instead let myself be in the moment. Worried over things I actually care about. Spotted the local priest drive his fancy car to mass.

Over the weekend, I needed groceries. It was Saturday and my sister would not return from Paris until Sunday night. Since moving, I’d only gone to our local grocery by myself once. But it needed to be done. I called my dad, having him on the phone to distract and support but whilst in the grocery, my phone glitched out and the call dropped (it does this very fun thing now when below 40% battery it barely functions). But instead of panicking, I finished the shop and walked home. That evening I planned out Christmas dinner and after a few attempts at trying to find gifts online, I realised it would be better and more ethical to shop in person. So on Sunday morning, first rushing out to buy cat litter, which is a great way to start the day, I once again called my dad as I headed to my local bookshop, Molasses Books, to find some second hand books. Grabbed a few favourites of mine that I know a certain someone will also love, having similar taste and a wild card for someone I don’t know very well. Then I went to see if one of the many thrift shops in the area was open, last I went I got a pair of jeans (with ZERO polyester in them) a size up and for only $5, so you know I had to go back. Unfortunately they were closed, they are one of those shops that despite what it says online, it’s all a matter of luck whether they’re open or not. I cut through the park, that was bustling with people, although missing its usual preacher who spoke before several half empty folding chairs, I figured it was just late in the day. I went to a fancy grocery nearby that has a butcher and cheesemonger. Grabbed some scallion/turmeric sausages for later in the week. The butcher assured me I needn’t preorder a whole chicken for Christmas, that I’d be fine leaving it ‘til the last minute as I wasn’t getting turkey. Another customer was eagerly trying to make conversation with the other butcher who seemed disinterested and I recall days when I’d be behind a counter, not wanting to chat but never the less had to. And how I am also guilty of trying to make conversation, sometimes I feel like a lonely old lady. But I’m just a lonely not even middled aged one. Asked about Christmas preorders for cheese plates, the cheesemonger who works the counter now recognising me. I think he was impressed because last time I was there, only a week before, I asked for Vermont cheese and so he now talks to me like I know all about it, and I don’t have the heart to tell him I’m clueless and basing these orders on suggestions from a former cheesemonger friend. But I will play along in the hopes of getting good cuts. I then had to swing by the usual grocery shop again, having forgotten some things the day before. The clerks there know me now too and ask how I’m doing. As the woman who scans my groceries told me to get home safe, I felt an air of independence I haven’t felt in a long while. I was only out a bit over an hour, but I felt refreshed and at ease. I rode that high for the rest of the day. Cleaned the apartment in silence, watched a movie at the kitchen table and journaled. Made dinner, noodles with leftover chicken and I chopped the spring onions with a pair of scissors over the dish. I later made my sister the same dinner but this time with marinated eggs I had prepped the day before.

For the first time since moving back to America, I did laundry by myself. It needed to be done and a Monday morning seemed like the ideal time. During the weekend, the laundromat is crowded and hectic, but on Monday is was calm with plenty machines vacant. Gave the machine 10 quarters and set a timer before I strolled down the road to a café. The woman ahead of me did not put a tip into the zelle card machine and the barista, not noticing, cancelled the payment when putting in my order. I decided not to say anything, letting this woman enjoy her free bagel and green smoothie. I grabbed a latte, sparkling water and a pack of baklava for my sister, chatting with the barista and the man who I assume is the owner. He said the baklava came all the way from Turkey and I mentioned you could get them in most corner shops in London. He said London has the best curry and I agreed, admitting I really miss the food before heading back for my laundry. I sat down for a bit, watching the end of cycle, the clothes being spun back and forth. When I got home the cat was asleep on my laptop. I’m having trouble settling back down, as if out there the world is calling me back.

Thank you for reading,

Enya xx

Books:

Days at the Morisaki Bookshop by Satoshi Yagisawa, translated by Eric Ozawa- This book is a very romantic view of what it’s like working in a bookshop. It’s light and sweet but feels very surface level in all facets, emotionally and just how working in retail is (because as much as I loved being a bookseller, it is still retail and retail is hard). I found the more interesting aspect of the main character, Takako’s struggle through a breakup and learning to love books kinda lackluster. I think if you haven’t worked in a bookshop it won’t annoy you as much as it did me. If the shop was more of a backdrop for a more interesting story I wouldn’t have been so bothered but it’s a huge part of the story! It was all just very surface level and I would have liked something more in-depth, but again, if you’ve never worked in books you probably don’t care. It wasn’t for me.

Cold Enough for Snow by Jessica Au- This is one I’d been meaning to read since it came out, it kind of floated in my periphery. I bought a copy last year and it sat on my shelf, waiting. I will say, November is perhaps the perfect time to read this. There is the ever present worry over the weather and cold in this book, not to an overwhelming sense, but just in the way one wonders whether or not to bring a rain coat. The book is short, which helped motivate me out of my reading slump. I really enjoyed this book, I only just finished it so I haven’t quite gone over how I feel objectively about it. It’s beautifully written, I loved the meandering quality to it. Thoughts branching out into memories. The struggle to connect with aging parents. I felt for the narrator, trying to pry information, to bond with their mother. Unsure if they’re happy to be there or not. I highly recommend this book.

Movies:

Wild Combination: A Portrait of Arthur Russell (2008)- “Multitalented musician Arthur Russell leaves Iowa, follows Allen Ginsberg from San Francisco to New York and launches a career that reaches its heyday in the 1980s.”

I was not at all familiar with Arthur Russel’s personal life when going into this film. I listen to his music from time to time, unaware if he was living or dead. The documentary, much like Russel’s work, does not work in a conventional way. It is loose, interviewing his parents, boyfriend, friends and contemporaries (including Phillip Glass and David Toop) but never trying to create a structure or arc. I was surprised when the film made me cry a little, I wont say why. It’s a very short film, just over an hour, and I really recommend it.

Phantom of the Paradise (1974)- “After record producer Swan (Paul Williams) steals the music of songwriter Winslow Leach (William Finley) and gives it to one of his bands, Leach sneaks into Swan's offices. Catching Leach, Swan frames him for dealing drugs, which lands him in prison. After Leach breaks out and again attempts to sabotage Swan's empire, an accident crushes his face. Leach then dons a costume and becomes the Phantom, intent on ruining Swan while saving singer Phoenix (Jessica Harper) from a terrible fate.”

This was recommended to me by a friend as the best movie he’d ever seen so I couldn’t help go in with high expectations. I am not a musical person and luckily this isn’t the Broadway type. I wasn’t surprised to learn this film was often a double feature with Rocky Horror Picture Show. Manic 1970s musicals full of hedonism. I don’t know if there is a term for the specific way a lot of 70s movies did their camera work, a lot of handheld but unsteady, moving about in a leering sort of way. I liked the film quite a bit but did not love it. I like movies from this era because it really is people just doing weird stuff and seeing what they can get away with, no one to tell them to maybe cut out a couple scenes or make the story more conventional. It’s basic yet weird. There’s Faust, Phantom of the Opera, Picture of Dorian Grey, a bit of Frankenstein. It wears its inspiration on its sleeve so it can go do its weird rock opera movie.

Ravenous (1999)- “Upon receiving reports of missing persons at Fort Spencer, a remote Army outpost on the Western frontier, Capt. John Boyd (Guy Pearce) investigates. After arriving at his new post, Boyd and his regiment aid a wounded frontiersman, F.W. Colghoun (Robert Carlyle), who recounts a horrifying tale of a wagon train murdered by its supposed guide -- a vicious U.S. Army colonel gone rogue. Fearing the worst, the regiment heads out into the wilderness to verify Colghoun's gruesome claims.”

I did not know this movie was meant to be a comedy, I thought it was a historical horror (which is basically is). It seemed like they tried to make it into a comedy in post through editing but gave up about 20 minutes in. The music by Michael Nyman and Damon Albarn (Blur, Gorillaz) was so mismatched but by the end I really liked it. This could have so easily been a conventional western cannibal movie but instead its a big gay allegory! Like, it’s really really evident that this is a movie about being gay. And the idea that someone would find being gay so abhorrent it is comparable to cannibalism is an interesting take too because I imagine some people actually do. The last few shots I loved. I don’t know if I can recommend this because I think overall it’s not a very good film but I personally really enjoyed it. Of course I liked the cannibal western gay-allegory film.

Paris, Texas (1984)- “A disheveled man who wanders out of the desert, Travis Henderson (Harry Dean Stanton) seems to have no idea who he is. When a stranger manages to contact his brother, Walt (Dean Stockwell), Travis is awkwardly reunited with his sibling. Travis has been missing for years, and his presence unsettles Walt and his family, which also includes Travis's own son, Hunter (Hunter Carson). Soon Travis must confront his wife, Jane (Nastassja Kinski), and try to put his life back together.”

This is one of those films where you’ve seen screenshots from it for ages and keep meaning to watch. Finally, I decided it was now or never. I knew nothing of the plot so I was quite surprised by it. The film is beautifully shot, every frame a painting, and it’s a slow paced western-esch story. It reminded me of The Odyssey. I recommend it and now am going to spoil it, so there’s your warning. I found it really interesting how the character Travis handles having been an abuser to his very young wife, Jane. He realises through bonding with his son that he is irredeemable but he needs to repair what he broke and unite his wife and child. I think a more typical story would have them make up and through his trials earns forgiveness. But this is not a story interested in forgiveness. He has to do what’s right, what he’s been avoiding, in order for everyone to move on. He perhaps believes himself to be doomed, but Jane and Hunter, his son, deserve to be together. It also comments on the kind of relationships that can evolve when a young girl (17/18) gets with a much older man, it’s a story we’ve all heard time and time again. He becomes insecure and jealous and projects that onto her, too young or scared or both to get away. Travis is a tragic character, but instead of dying gruesomely, with a monologue displaying his regret, he drives off into the sunset, alone again.

Talk To Me (2023)- “When a group of friends discover how to conjure spirits with an embalmed hand, they become hooked on the new thrill and high-stakes party game -- until one of them goes too far and unleashes terrifying supernatural forces.”

I’d put off seeing this for a while, sometimes when I hear something is good I become unmotivated to see it. Not sure why, but I use the term Phantom Thread, aka, something I know I will really like and so put off watching it for some reason or another (because once I finally watched the film Phantom Thread, I was mad I’d waited so long to see it knowing I’d really like it). This film is a Phantom Thread, a really good horror movie that it not focused so much on scaring you as it is with unsettling you. Which I find to be a more effective kind of horror, less jump scares and more after the film feeling a sense of unease. I’m sure there was a jump scare in the movie but I don’t remember any? I think this was really great and a good “introductory horror”, for those who want to get into the genre but are scared to, although being scared is the point. The horror genre continues to deliver!

Mutt (2023)- “A transgender man goes through an emotional roller-coaster over a 24-hour period in New York City.”

A nice slow, contained story. Felt like a little novel to watch. It’s on Netflix so it’s easy to find and I recommend it. Sometimes the dialogue was a bit too expository for my liking, but overall think it’s well worth it. I don’t know, I’m glad I watched it but also not as enthusiastic I as I’d like to be about. Good not great sort of thing, ya know? I’m getting too down about something I would recommend, I just think it could have been better if it went a bit deeper. But I think if someone who isn’t well versed in trans men stories and wants to learn more, this is a good start.

Three Colours: Blue (1993)- “Julie (Juliette Binoche) is haunted by her grief after living through a tragic auto wreck that claimed the life of her composer husband and young daughter. Her initial reaction is to withdraw from her relationships, lock herself in her apartment and suppress her pain. But avoiding human interactions on the bustling streets of Paris proves impossible, and she eventually meets up with Olivier (Benoît Régent), an old friend who harbors a secret love for her, and who could draw her back to reality.”

I loved this movie. Really loved it from the start and continued to love it. Despite the awfully tragic beginning, this film does not have a cruel bone in its body. How it was written, the visuals, the acting, all of it! It’s beautiful. I haven’t had the time to really process it and get how I’m really feeling about it other than it was wonderful. I’m going to be thinking about it for a while.

Wings of Desire (1987)- “Two angels, Damiel (Bruno Ganz) and Cassiel (Otto Sander), glide through the streets of Berlin, observing the bustling population, providing invisible rays of hope to the distressed but never interacting with them. When Damiel falls in love with lonely trapeze artist Marion (Solveig Dommartin), the angel longs to experience life in the physical world, and finds--with some words of wisdom from actor Peter Falk (playing himself) -- that it might be possible for him to take human form.”

Firstly, I love that this films makes the implication that Peter Falk, known for Columbo, is a literal angel turned human. Love that. This film was like a visual poem and it was gorgeous. Initially I was a bit overwhelmed because the angels can hear people’s thoughts and it was a lot of people talking over each other at first. But then the film stretches out and we get more time with each person. Lovely moments and contemplations. There’s a monologue near the end performed by the character Marion that were really…capturing is the only word that seems to fit. You need to give the film your patience and in return you’ll be rewarded. One of my favourite watches this year.

Three Colours: White (1994)- “Polish immigrant Karol Karol (Zbigniew Zamachowski) finds himself out of a marriage, a job and a country when his French wife, Dominique (Julie Delpy), divorces him after six months due to his impotence. Forced to leave the France after losing the business they jointly owned, Karol enlists fellow Polish expatriate Mikolah (Janusz Gajos) to smuggle him back to their homeland. After successfully returning, Karol begins to build his new life, while never forgetting his old one.”

I think this film was doomed from the start because I loved Blue so much. This film was odd to me. I nearly gave up 30 minutes in because I didn’t like the lead character very much and by the end I really didn’t like him. He was a vindictive little prick but not an enjoyable one to watch. I just found him kind of pathetic. I would have liked it much more had it not been a follow up to Blue. I must be missing something because I wasn’t sure if the film thought it was being clever with the ending or not. It is a very well made film, I just have an issue with the story and I’d recommend watching it before Blue. Maybe in time I’ll end up liking it but at the moment I’m kinda meh on the whole thing.

Three Colours: Red (1994)- “Part-time model Valentine (Irène Jacob) meets a retired judge (Jean-Louis Trintignant) who lives in her neighborhood after she runs over his dog. At first the judge gifts Valentine with the dog, but her possessive boyfriend won't allow her to keep it. When she returns with the dog to the judge's house, she discovers him listening in on his neighbors' phone conversations. At first Valentine is outraged, but her debates with the judge over his behavior soon leads them to form a strange bond.”

This was the one that made me want to watch the whole trilogy, I’d seen bits of it online and was curious. I still don’t think anything will top Blue, but this is a close second. I love stories about grumpy isolated people begrudgingly forming a bond with another person, to slowly open up to the world. It’s a story about compassion and understanding, how our lives parallel with others, how we make each other better. Also this movie really made me miss having a landline phone, funnily enough. My only really issue is (spoiler kinda) the very very end when it connects all the three films very blatantly when before that they were only loosely tied which I think worked better. It kind of felt forced and tonally odd. That being said, it did not ruin the film for me overall, I still really liked it and would like to watch again in a few months.

Sometimes you need to remind yourself to listen to Jamie xx’s ‘Girl’ and remember who the hell you are